


Behind Branches

by Matrya



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Purgatory, Wingfic, post-Survival of the Fittest, s7e23 coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya/pseuds/Matrya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purgatory doesn't have weather, but it definitely has cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Branches

There wasn’t technically such a thing as weather in Purgatory. There was no sunshine, no rain, no clouds, no wind. There was, however, temperature. One day it might be freezing and the next, Dean would need to strip down to nothing.

On the nearly-freezing days, Castiel would wordlessly wrap his overcoat around Dean. When cold days became even colder, he added his suit jacket.

The hot days continued to remain constant.

But the cold just became worse by the week and month. Dean was never very good at accepting help or comfort and, before Purgatory, he might have thought a coat would be his limit.

Then came days where the cold _hurt_ and pressed in on him from all sides, where finally Castiel had to force Dean’s stiff arms into the suit jacket and wrap his arms and overcoat around Dean.

Dean would fight, but it would be useless even if Castiel didn’t have super-strength. So Castiel would wrap his arms around Dean as they sat against the large tree in the middle of Their Clearing, the one Dean had found weeks in that had the one large tree right in the center and seventy-three paces of empty space before it fell into treeline.

It was the closest thing they could find to defensible, so Dean learned to soften into the heat that Castiel’s Grace provided in such a desolate place.

It helped.

Still, though, the cold just became worse in response.

"Fuck," Dean muttered into Castiel’s shoulder. He was shivering, but at least he still could, he figured. He had come to realise that the day it got _that_ cold, so cold he couldn’t shiver, would probably be the day he would die.

So as long as he continued to shiver, he thought, he could make it.

Castiel rubbed his hand over Dean’s back in awkwardly-fast circles. "The temperature should break in five hours. Only five more hours," he muttered seriously, as though it was comforting.

"You can’t tell, Cas, but it is _fucking cold_ ," he bit out through chattering teeth.

Castiel’s hand stuttered in its rhythm and then stopped.

After a second, Dean whimpered and then kicked himself for it.

"Sit astride me, Dean," Castiel’s said in answer to the whimper.

"What?"

Castiel pulled Dean against his chest with the arm still hooked around him.

"Whoa, whoa, Cas. What the hell?" he interrupted, making a token effort to reverse the move.

"You’re going to freeze to death," Castiel pointed out, voice heavy with sadness. He grabbed Dean’s leg and tried to haul it over both of his own. "I will not let that happen."

Hesitantly, Dean went in the direction of Castiel’s movements. As chest hit chest and groin hit groin, Dean realised the problem with the plan as his front warmed. "My back is going to turn into an icicle."

Castiel said his name authoritatively, so authoritatively that Dean just wrapped his arms around the angel’s shoulders.

Before he could complain again, there was a ruffle of air that sounded like shaking out sheets and then just enveloping warmth.

"The hell?"

When Castiel didn’t reply, Dean looked around to see absolutely nothing, darkness all encompassing. When he reached out, his fingers found something soft.

Castiel started and the softness closed around Dean’s back, forcing him to put his arm down. Dean wrapped it back around Castiel’s shoulders.

"Wings," he answered, finally.

"I figured," Dean muttered, resting his face against Castiel’s shoulder

He groaned when Castiel grabbed his hips, pulling him in closer with hands and wings.

"Warm up, Dean," Castiel demanded.

Dean pulled his face back slightly, frustrated when he couldn’t make out anything, up to and including Castiel’s expression. Frustrated, he slid his hands down until he found the join of wings and back, stroking slightly and feeling warmer at the slight moan Castiel let out.

He leaned in, lips catching stubble that made him self-conscious about his own beard. Before he could think about it too much, he slid his mouth along Castiel’s jaw until Castiel met him, lips dry but moving against his own and that’s what mattered.

They were lost and neither knew when they might find a way out, but at least they didn’t have to be alone, Dean mused to himself as he licked along the seal of Castiel’s lips.

Under the touch, Castiel’s lips parted only slightly and his own tongue reached out, touching Dean’s.

And then he turned his head. "Warm up, Dean," he again demanded.

"Uh. Yeah." He buried his face back against Castiel’s shoulder, painfully aware of every point at which he was pressed against Castiel.

He thought that at least the painfully hot blush was more warmth, but then Castiel pulled him closer and buried his own face in Dean’s neck.

He sighed out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and brushed his fingers through the feathers at the base of Castiel’s wings.

At least they weren’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for earthdragon1 on Tumblr. She prompted me for a Cas-keeping-Dean-warm-with-his-wings fic and I was happy to oblige.
> 
>  **Memo:** I don't check comments or kudos, but feel free to yell at me on [tumblr](http://matrya.tumblr.com) or [check out](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya) my other writing!


End file.
